


eudaimonia

by Reishiin



Series: the ones who walk away from Heartland [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - ARC-V, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reishiin/pseuds/Reishiin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the dimensional war, Sakaki Yuuya builds paradise in Heartland City.</p><p>This is the story of the ones who fought him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eudaimonia

**Author's Note:**

> For [Zexal Month](http://zexalmonth.tumblr.com/post/148858777783) Week 3 Day 2: Crossover
> 
> Nasch's initial condition and two of Nasch and Vector's exchanges ("stupidity" and "trust") are from [Blake's 7](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blake%27s_7).

 

 

 

_After the war, Prince Yuuya had stood in the observatory atop the lighthouse overlooking Heartland City with Shun and Yuuto at his side,  
and smiled a smile that could light up the whole world and said, "I want to build a new world where everyone can be happy..."_

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm telling the truth, Nasch, really I am, and since you already came all this way you might as well hear me out—"

" _Bullshit_ ," Nasch snarls. "My money's at home, if that's what you wanted, you didn't have to drag me all the way out here. And my _name_ is—"

"Kamishiro, I know. It used to be, anyway. Two minutes, that's all I want, pretty please and I'll throw a strawberry in?" Even when Nasch can't remember anything, he doesn't buy Vector's innocent act at all, and that makes Vector smile.

Nasch yanks one of his hands, hard; the bedpost he's tied to doesn't move. "Bastard, does it look like I'm going anywhere?"

"Don't move too much, you'll rip out the IV and we need that to clean the drugs from your system."

It's almost fun, toying with Nasch like this. But right now the Resistance needs its leader. So Vector circles around to Nasch's side, traps Nasch against the headboard and looks him dead in the eye.

"Okay, so. Your name is Nasch. You fought for Heartland in the dimensional war, and when Sakaki Yuuya took over, you left with the rest of us and came here. Remember Academia. Remember Tsukumo Yuuma. Remember this," Vector says, and grasps the pendant of Barian that Nasch wears under his shirt over his heart.

A breath, then two. Silence in the room. Nasch has stopped struggling; his eyes are sharp, intent. The pendant is warm from Nasch's body, curved crystal-inset metal solid against Vector's fingers.

Then Nasch's eyes clear, and Vector can breathe again.

Vector reaches over, loosens the restraints. "Welcome back. Nasch. And be careful. One day you'll go and get yourself caught again and I won't be able to bring you back."

"Load of crap," Nasch says tiredly, rubbing at his wrists to restore the circulation. "I'll always come back. I'll rise from the dead if I have to. That's how much I can't stand the thought of you leading this lot."

Vector smirks, lets Nasch up. "Still can't trust me?"

Nasch doesn't bother with a reply, just quirks a smile as he throws his jacket back on and leaves Vector's room.

 

* * *

 

 

After the dimensional war, Sakaki Yuuya himself oversaw the restoration of Heartland and the resettlement of people. The postwar reparations paid by Fusion to Xyz are more than sufficient to rebuild the city to its former beauty, and allow everyone in it to live well for a long, long time.

_As long as I live, nobody in Heartland will ever be sad again._

_No one will ever suffer, or want for anything._

_No one will be dissatisfied._

_Everybody can be happy._

To have food and clean water and shelter and electricity, and good schools and reliable transport and access to amenities— to those who had struggled to survive through every day of the war, it was indeed paradise. But there were also those who looked around at the restored city and its shining towers and uncertain smiles, and said, "This is not what we want," and quietly packed up to leave.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Spring arrives in Heartland City and brings with it misery: the air thickens with the suffocating scent of flowers, birds call at six a.m. when everyone is still trying to sleep, pollen blows through cracked-open windows and makes a yellow layer on everything. Alit gets morose, Nasch gets irritable, and Durbe just gets terrible hay fever so he goes around with a distressed expression and a handkerchief held to his face.

The building they'd commandeered for headquarters is a wartime Resistance base at the fringes of Heartland, overlooked by city authorities during the restoration. It's still half in ruins, and even the intact areas are in various states of disrepair. But it's unregistered, and it's enough space for everyone and it keeps out the dust and the wet when it rains, so it will do. If it was comfortable living they wanted they'd have stayed in Heartland City anyway.

"Do you think there's such a thing as deserving, Vector?"

Alit's room contains three things: his bed, a small chest of drawers on which are placed several necessities, and the training bag hanging from the ceiling. Waste not, want not: a holdover from the nine years he served in Heartland's army.

"I don't care," Vector replies. "If you want something, you go out there and take it. Who cares about whether you deserve it."

"Those people in the war," Alit says. "Who carded people and enjoyed it. They're sitting pretty in Heartland City alongside everyone else. But they shouldn't be allowed to be happy. They should be punished for their sins."

Vector leans against the doorframe, watches Alit pummel the training bag until his knuckles are torn and bleeding and he collapses spread-eagled on the cracked wood flooring. "I should have died," Alit whispers. His eyes are open but Vector doesn't think he's really seeing anything. "I should have died, and he should have lived."

 

 

At one-thirty in the morning in a bad thunderstorm, a tree falls the wrong way and knocks down a wall and the roof of the supply room caves in.

Vector drags himself out of bed to check on the commotion, runs into Mizael in the hallway. The others' rooms are on the other side of the building, there's no time and no point in getting them, so it's up to the two of them to move everything they can out of the rain.

Ten minutes later they collapse amidst the pile of toolboxes and expired first aid kits and  flashlights and portable radios and god knows what else, and eye each other morosely.

"— This sucks," Mizael says."

"No one's forcing you to stay, you know," Vector says, rubs his eyes; it's too late at night for this. "There's nothing standing between you and—" Vector waves halfheartedly in the direction of Heartland City— "houses that are air-conditioned and not falling apart and you can have a job you like that actually pays for food and maybe nice things." With Mizael's looks and talents he could easily have a good life in Heartland City, but instead he's out here at the fringes slumming it up with the rest of them.

"Does Nasch know? That you're going sowing discord again?"

"Cool it, Miza- _chan_ , don't want to frown and ruin that pretty face—"

Mizael snarls. He's beautiful when he gets angry, but Vector thinks Mizael actually might gut him if he dared to say that, so he just wraps one hand around the back of Mizael's neck and drags Mizael down to kiss him. He's been on edge for days and Mizael's usual fuck is off following up some lead about tranquilizers in the water supply, so this works out just fine for the both of them.

Mizael bites through Vector's bottom lip and Vector tastes blood, runs his tongue over the wound, dives in for another kiss. He's definitely awake now, at any rate.

"Have you no pride," Mizael snarls, pulls back just far enough to meet Vector's eyes.

( _No_ , Vector thinks. _I don't._ )

The same obstinate tenacity that had allowed Mizael to survive Heartland in the war now also keeps him from it. He has never let himself be influenced by others, and so Prince Yuuya's smiles will never reach him.

Vector doesn't pity him. He has no right.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A heat wave rolls across Heartland at the height of summer, and Tsukumo Yuuma reports spikes in electricity consumption throughout the city as people turn on fans and air-conditioning to fight the heat. The heavy humidity in the air makes Mizael's hair frizz, and Nasch and Durbe shed their heavy formal coats for lighter dress. Vector's window is right in the line of afternoon sun, so he spends as much time in the common area as he can.

"Make yourself more useful, why don't you," Durbe snaps.

"I don't see reports that need reading."

"Groceries. Cleaning. Figure out how to stop up the cracks in the windows, they'll be no good when winter comes." He stalks off to run some errand or another without waiting for a reply.

 

 

Nasch is the only one of them who knows Vector's real last name. Once on a raid they'd run into a scrape with border patrol, and Vector had had to pull out his old Heartland Academy ID to get them out of it. That night after too much cheap alcohol Nasch had called him 'Shingetsu' in a slurred voice over the shogi board and Vector had flinched so hard he almost knocked over his cup.

(Nasch's real name is Kamishiro Ryouga. That is already well-known throughout Heartland City, so there's no value in keeping it hidden.)

 

 

Late night in the infirmary. Vector needs paperwork signed, but Nasch is sleeping and Durbe insists he can't be disturbed so Vector has to get Durbe to do it instead. And then Durbe offers Vector a drink in an unusually conciliatory gesture and Vector is suspicious but accepts because Durbe doesn't have a deceptive bone in his body.

"Everyone here wants something they can't have," Durbe says, staring at something at the bottom of his cup. "Something Heartland City can't give and Prince Yuuya's smiles can't reach. That's what keeps them here, keeps them fighting. It's really not noble, just selfishness."

 _Speak for yourself_ , Vector thinks. There's nothing Vector wants _;_ he's his own person, that's all he's ever needed to fight Heartland City's curse.

Of them all, Vector understands Durbe the least. Personal differences aside Durbe is good at what he does, and dedicated to it; a paragon of duty. But if Durbe's objective is helping people, then it makes no sense that he is here with them. His knowledge and skill would be of much better use in Heartland City, where there are supplies and facilities at his disposal, where there are far more people who need helping.

So why does he—

_Everyone wants something they can't have._

_That's what keeps them here._

_It's really not noble, just selfishness._

Durbe is not looking at Vector, but past him to where Nasch is sleeping, the beep of the heart monitor steady in the quiet air and the covers rising and falling in time with his breathing.

So that's what it is.

—Maybe they do have something in common after all.

 

 

But Durbe's words stay with Vector, and that night, staring up at his own ceiling in the insomniac haze he's long grown used to, Vector thinks again: there's nothing he wants. He can leave whenever he likes, he just chooses not to, there's nothing chaining him to this place—

(Tsukumo Yuuma deep in Heartland with his fingers on the pulse of the city, directing traffic, intercepting communications, still convinced that one day Prince Yuuya will see the error of his ways. Nasch, who stays up past midnight reading reports that don't change and who said to Vector, the day they met, "I will only stop when when every person in Heartland City is free.")

 

 

* * *

 

 

The suffocation of summer fades into the cool dry winds of fall, and Durbe puts sheets of heavy fabric up over the cracks in the walls in a last-ditch attempt to keep out the cold. None of them quite know how they'll get through the winter.

Byron Arclight disappears, and his eldest son promptly packs up the remains of their family and heads for Heartland City. The same week Tenjou Kaito also announces his intention to leave, and Nasch is furious at the loss, and Vector looks over at Mizael and sees his expression turn stony, his knuckles whiten at his side.

Mizael doesn't love Tenjou Kaito, but they are kindred spirits in a time when people like that are hard to find, and it's his name on Mizael's lips when Mizael comes to Vector on all those long nights. Vector learned Mizael's story over harsh words exchanged in half-darkness with their backs turned to each other; Mizael doesn't care what Vector thinks of him, so he's honest with Vector in a way he isn't with anyone else.

And then Vector wonders if it's true the other way round too, if Mizael also knows more about him than anyone else does.

That night Vector pulls Mizael to him and kisses him softly, strokes his hair in a pretense at gentleness, and for once Mizael doesn't turn away or put up a fight. From this angle in the half-darkness of Vector's room it looks like Mizael's eyes are glistening with unshed tears, but that must just be a trick of the light.

 

 

It's one in the morning and Nasch is still in the common area doing paperwork. Vector leans over his shoulder on the pretext of reading the report on the desk, and smirks when Nasch edges his chair away.

Of the reports, Nasch has already tossed the one-liners into a pile to the side. But the one he is reading actually looks useful: civic discontent over improper drainage causing flash floods in the eastern lowlands, and Governor Yuuto's new laws on public nuisance which some people think are 'too controlling'. Vector thinks he can tell who wrote it, and he's proven right when Nasch flips to the last page and Tsukumo Yuuma's looping signature is there.

Nasch lingers on the page a moment, then closes the report and puts it away with the others.

"Tsukumo Yuuma is still there?" Vector says, still planted firmly in Nasch's personal space. "Still convinced he can get Yuuya to see things his way? I knew he was persistent but I didn't think he was _stupid_ —"

"Don't talk about him like that."

Nasch is an idealist and an fool who still believes in things like love, who turns his face toward the lighthouse in the heart of the City because Tsukumo Yuuma is there and dreams of the day that Prince Yuuya's lies can turn to radiant truths. One day that light will catch Nasch on fire, burn him to the ground and leave Vector—

(here)

(to shine alone)

— in charge of this base, its weapons and supplies and this ragtag bunch of misfits.

"Yuuma is out there in the heart of the enemy's camp, risking his life every day and every night—"

"Yuuma is a fool."

( _As are you,_ Vector doesn't add. _As are all of us who follow you._ )

"He's better than the likes of you."

"Then go," Vector hears himself say, "Go there now and tell him so, and you can both stay in Heartland City and be _happy_."

The last word sits between them, weighted like earth, and then Nasch gets up and leaves without another word.

 

 

Gilag is a man who prefers his own company, and to be quite frank, Vector prefers it that way too. Vector would really, really, really rather be anywhere than here, but nobody else will actually teach him to fight and Vector doesn't want to keep being deadweight when they get ambushed on raids so he grits his teeth and gets up and keeps going.

Gilag takes the roundhouse kick straight to the chest without blinking and then Vector's on the floor eating dirt.

"Focus. The moment you feel content with your current state is the moment you lose all ability to better yourself," Gilag says, and Vector can't think of a smart reply to that because he's too busy trying not to get crushed into a pulp on the ground where Gilag has him pinned with one hand.

Off duty Gilag reads, draws, composes, spars with Alit, and listens to the trashiest pop on Heartland City's airwaves.

"—Besides," Gilag says, and lets Vector up. "It's convenient to not live up to your potential when you can blame it on trying circumstances, isn't it?"

 

 

 

Nasch arrives on the doorstep of HQ at 5:23pm when the sun has almost fully set, alone and trailing a horrific amount of blood. He barely makes it through the door before collapsing and it's all Vector can do to keep himself upright while also supporting Nasch's weight.

For the last three hours Vector has monitored their radio frequency with rising discomfort. The raid was supposed to be straightforward, a supply run on Heartland Tower. But General Kurosaki had managed to anticipate their movements and set traps and ambushes at every turn, and Vector had wordlessly put his communicator on loudspeaker and let the sound of screams fill the room until the others got up and left one by one.

Nasch's skin is clammy to the touch, his face ashen and lips white with pain. Blood soaks the thin fabric over his abdomen, turning the shirt dark; Vector yells for Durbe as he hauls Nasch into the infirmary, drops Nasch's deadweight onto the nearest elevated surface. His hands come away shocking red.

"Don't you dare die on me, asshole," Vector whispers. His voice is shaking. "Just think about Yuuma's face when he finds out. Don't you _dare_ leave me to deal with that shit."

"Kurosaki is—" Nasch grits out. He's opened his eyes, he's searching Vector's face and Vector has never been more relieved in his life. "Kaito— Kaito has the Bariasphere— _"_

"Stay— _fucking_ — put, we can handle that later."

Nasch is about to say something more when Durbe rushes in, shoves an armful of medical supplies at Vector, and gets to work.

Vector knows by heart the scars that map Nasch's back because he and Durbe have had to sew together so many of them. He forgets the local anaesthetic on purpose when he cauterizes the wound, lets himself smile when Nasch hisses in pain and the scent of burning flesh rises into the air. The bastard deserves it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Winter arrives in early sunsets and cold inland breezes, taps left dripping so the pipes won't freeze and hot showers limited to three minutes. Mizael has taken to sleeping in Durbe's room because his own is on the west side of the building where the walls are falling down and the heating's given out. Vector opens the front door, immediately decides going out isn't worth it and closes the door again. They can't stay here much longer; come spring, if they're still alive, they'll have to find somewhere else to go.

Yuuma's letters, written in blue ballpoint on thin printer paper. "Governor Yuuto falters," Merag reads out. "Please, Nasch, give me more time..."

" _There is no more time_ ," Nasch says, hands tightening into fists against the worn wood of the table. Prince Yuuya leaves Heartland the night of the winter solstice, nine days from now. "One week. Then we storm the Pendulum Palace and cut Prince Yuuya down where he sits on his throne."

One week. One week and their sparse numbers against the full might of Prince Yuuya's defenders. "You are a fool, Nasch," Vector hears himself say quietly, "and I no longer think I am capable of the stupidity needed to continue following you."

"You shortchange yourself, Vector," Nasch replies.

 

 

"Merag. One day you really will die defending him."

"He's family," she replies.

"That doesn't make him worth it."

"Doesn't it?" Merag replies. "I don't expect someone like you to understand."

They have all fought and killed for Nasch and followed him into hell, but Vector thinks Merag alone among them would be willing to die for him.

"You're right, I don't," Vector says. "Merag. If, tomorrow— if something happens that we don't expect. If, for any reason at all, you decide to leave. Call me."

She meets his eyes, her expression doesn't change, she says nothing.

"—Good night, Vector."

 

 

In the evening sky above Heartland City two short flashes of white light, then one long one. Vector thinks Tsukumo Yuuma is standing by the window of the lighthouse's observatory, one hand wrapped around the pendant he calls a good luck charm as he scans Heartland's dark streets for Nasch's transport. _Safe now._ It chills Vector to the bone.

Nasch stands, snaps his communicator closed; the others are checking decks, duel disks, D-Gazers, making sure everything is in place.

"Coming, Vector?" Nasch says, too casually.

For one moment Vector holds his gaze, and then he picks up his duel disk and follows them out without a word.

 

 

They tear through the gardens and entrance halls, into the stairwells of the Pendulum Palace with duel disks in hand, and the pristine white floors of the palace halls run red with blood. In the throne room Prince Yuuya's beautiful face twists in rage and he screams, "We fought for this, we fought and lost and died for this and we won't let the likes of you take it away again..."

Kurosaki attacks, Merag knocks Nasch out of the line of fire and takes the blow in his place, and as she falls—

Vector sees red.

 

 

When it's over, Nasch picks the unmoving body of his sister off the floor; her blood on his hands, turning his gloves dark with the weight of his mistakes. Somewhere Vector had abandoned his duel disk and pulled a knife on Prince Yuuya's guards, and now he yanks it out of someone's neck and absently cleans it before stuffing it back into the sheath at his waist. He's always been better at fighting close-range.

Governor Yuuto and Kurosaki Shun have retreated into the Pendulum Palace's inner sanctum, an impenetrable fortress defended by stone walls and white light. Kurosaki Ruri has taken the Prince and fled to Standard.

Nasch raises his eyes to Vector's, his expression twists when he sees the knife, the blood. Even to the death, Nasch fights honorably; Vector has never had problems getting his hands dirty. "We're done here," Nasch whispers. "Tell the others..."

"If they're still alive," Vector replies.

If Nasch wasn't hurting before, he definitely is now. Vector averts his eyes from Nasch's; flips open his communicator and does as told.

 

 

Back at HQ, quickly taking stock: they've lost contact with Durbe and Gilag, Alit is still on his way. Mizael sent word that he's found Tenjou Kaito and is staying in Heartland for the immediate future, but the phrasing of the message is off and they can't rule out the possibility that someone's holding him hostage.

In the outer hall of the infirmary, Vector checks the medical supplies and frowns. Between that and their severely depleted numbers, if Kurosaki Shun attacks now, they won't survive. They can't stay here any longer than they absolutely have to.

Vector crosses the hall to where Nasch is tending to Merag's injuries as best he can. Her eyes are closed, but she doesn't seem to be in pain. "How is she?"

"Fine," Nasch says. "The shot missed vital regions. It'll take time for her to recover but she'll be fine."

 _She's always fine in the end,_ Vector thinks. _She's a fighter. As long as she lives, she'll follow you, and as long as she follows you, she won't let herself die._

"Alit's taking too long," Nasch says, picks his duel disk up. "I'll look for him, he might need backup."

"I'll go. You stay here and take care of Merag." Vector shivers and pulls at the collar of his coat. The outer hall of the infirmary is cold and drafty, and neither of them have tended to their own injuries and Vector can tell that Nasch is in far worse shape than he is.

Nasch eyes him, doesn't move or put down the duel disk. "Vector—"

"Still don't trust me?" Vector smirks, but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Vector is done dogging the footsteps of a delusional madman. He's smart. He knows people. Even outside the walls of Heartland's numbing tranquility, Vector won't ever have to want for anything. If he does leave, he'll be able to find a place on every merchant caravan or smuggler's ship in the four worlds.

(Far better prospects than here, holding together the remnants of a dying sun. _Tomorrow,_ Vector thinks. Tomorrow he will break all the strings and leave this miserable hellhole at last.)

Nasch stops. Turns, grasps Vector's shoulder with surprising strength and says, "Vector, I have always trusted you. Since the very beginning."

(Tomorrow never comes.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
